


The Scientist Opens Up

by Masterofkarate



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also charlie is a bit uninformed, Could be triggering, M/M, Mild Language, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, lotsa recovery talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofkarate/pseuds/Masterofkarate
Summary: “No, dude. You never drink,” Charlie answered.“I never drink because I'm an alcoholic,” the scientist told him.“But how?” Charlie asked, tilting his head. “You're super smart, you've got a super fancy job, you always shower, your apartment is badass.”“Thank you for all of the compliments,” the scientist said, adding a smile before continuing, “But I think you're confused about what an alcoholic is.”“It's like a homeless dude who drinks under the bridge or on the corner all day,” Charlie shrugged.“No,” the scientist said, shaking his head. “Anybody can be an alcoholic, even a super smart guy with a fancy job and a badass apartment.”





	The Scientist Opens Up

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% head canon the scientist as a recovering alcoholic (i say recovering not recovered bc recovery never ends), so this is when he reveals that to Charlie.
> 
> Plus I wanted to see Charlie be just as supporting as we always see the scientist being.

“How come they always schedule you for meetings after dinner time? That's kinda weird, isn't it?” Charlie asked over dinner one night, after the scientist say he could not watch a movie with Charlie when they were done eating. 

“Because they are not scheduled meetings, Charlie,” the scientist answered simply.

“What? They just call you in? Like all the time?” Charlie asked, voice raising in suspicion.

“No, Charlie, they are not work meetings,” the scientist clarified.

“Then what kinda meetings are you always going to?” Charlie kept his voice down. When he got passionate and angry, the scientist refused to fight with him. He was slowly learning how he was supposed to talk with him.

The scientist didn't answer for a moment. He looked down at his food, pushing the pasta with his fork, then he looked back up at Charlie. He took in a deep breath and exhaled before answering, “They're AA meetings.”

“AA?” Charlie asked, tilting his head. “Like the kind that the judge makes you go to?”

“No, well, yes, no.” The scientist shook his head and then tried again, “They are the same meetings people go to when a judge says they have to go, but I do not go because a judge told me to.”

Charlie stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to use the word  _ alcoholic _ . From what he knew about  _ alcoholics _ , it was way too white trash for a classy scientist guy. People like the scientist weren’t alcoholics, no people like Cricket were addicts. 

Charlie's silence must have extended too long, because the scientist said, “Yes, I go because they help me. I'm an alcoholic.”

“No, dude. You never drink,” Charlie answered.

“I never drink because I'm an alcoholic,” the scientist told him.

“But how?” Charlie asked, tilting his head. “You're super smart, you've got a super fancy job, you always shower, your apartment is badass.”

“Thank you for all of the compliments,” the scientist said, adding a smile before continuing, “But I think you're confused about what an alcoholic is.”

“It's like a homeless dude who drinks under the bridge or on the corner all day,” Charlie shrugged.

“No,” the scientist said, shaking his head. “Anybody can be an alcoholic, even a super smart guy with a fancy job and a badass apartment.”

Charlie bit his lip, feeling self conscious about his apparent lack of knowledge on the subject. He swallowed thickly and nodded, “But like you haven't drank the whole time we've hung out. We've been hanging out a few months now.”

“I haven't had a drink in nearly four years,” the scientist told him.

“Wow!” Charlie said, genuinely enthusiastic about the news. “That's like really awesome! So that's how you got to be a scientist and all?”

“No, Charlie, I was a scientist before too.” He sighed and asked, “Could we talk about something else during dinner? I'm just not prepared to have this talk.”

“Of course, dude!” Charlie said quickly. There had been times they talked about things that upset Charlie and it was too much for him. The scientist never got mad when he wanted to change the subject, so Charlie wanted to be supportive in the same way. “So while you're out, I can stay here like normal? I'll just wait for you to get home?”

“Of course, I don't see why we would change our routine just because you know where I'm going,” the scientist said with a warm smile.

“Cool!” Charlie said with a laugh. He then went on to explain that he'd been thinking about how the moon looked like cheese since the night before. He decided he wanted to learn more about the moon and why it looked like cheese, so he was going to look through the scientist’s books. He talked enthusiastically and excitedly, partially to keep the scientist distracted and partly because that's how he felt.

Reading’s been a lot less shitty for Charlie lately. The scientist never called him stupid for not being a great reader. He didn't tell Charlie he had to learn to read, he just offered to help. At first, Charlie didn't want to learn, but it's gotten better. He's always learning cool stuff. Plus, some of the scientist's science books have some pictures, which calm Charlie down a bit. He usually tried to read a paragraph at a time and he would write down the words or sentences that confused him. When the scientist could, they would go over the confusing words and made sure Charlie understood. The scientist never made fun of his handwriting or pictography (the scientist called it that, Charlie adopted it) either, and he was getting pretty good at understanding it.

The scientist enthused with Charlie about space and the moon. A bit about cheese as well (Charlie was easily distracted by cheese). They laughed and finished dinner happily. When they were done, they washed and dried the dishes together as usual. Charlie wished him goodbye with a chaste kiss and the scientist was off.

As soon as he was gone, Charlie rushed to the computer. He had his own profile on the scientist’s computer. It was his name, the icon was of a cat, and “dayman” was the password. The picture he was greeted with on the background was of him holding a stray cat. The scientist said they couldn't take it home (his apartment didn't allow cats and he said Charlie's wasn't quite fit for a cat), but they brought it to a shelter together. The scientist took the picture and uploaded it on his computer. He mostly liked it because he couldn't remember the last time somebody took a picture of him just because, maybe his mom when he was a kid.

He immediately opened the web browser and started searching. He looked up “alcoholic” and “alcoholics anonymous” and “alcoholic science man.” He was very thankful for Google’s suggested searches and autocorrect. He was also thankful for the fact the scientist had installed a program to read text he highlighted aloud. The words were pretty boring, but he worked hard to listen, he wanted to be a good friend to the scientist. The scientist had helped him out so much and had worked hard to really get what Charlie meant, so Charlie wanted to understand the scientist and help him if he could. 

As he listened, he took notebooks in his designated “research notebook,” in which he usually tried to take science notes. It was a mixture of pictography and notes, but he could understand them. When the scientist came back, he could hear the automated voice coming from the study. 

“I'm home, dear,” the scientist called out, walking to the room.

Charlie quickly paused the program and  around in the chair to face the door. He was happy the scientist was home, he was also really happy to be called dear. The use of his name so much as opposed to pet names usually meant the scientist was a bit uneasy. It sounded like he was re-easied.

“Learn anything interesting about the moon?” The scientist asked, leaning against the doorway.

“I learned some stuff, but I'm still kind of confused,” Charlie admitted.

“That's quite alright. Acquiring scientific knowledge often required acquiring questions first. Would you like to discuss, or would you like to research on your own for some time more?”

“I think you can give me more good answers,” Charlie told him.

“Okay, if you think I can give you better answers, then I'll go change, go settle in in the living room, we'll conference,” the scientist answered. “You took notes?”

Charlie nodded. He closed his notebook and stood up. He walked to the door and gave the scientist a quick kiss before they split up. In the living room, Charlie sat criss-cross-applesauce on the couch. He was anxiously picking at the hem of his shirt, trying to wait patiently.

The scientist joined him a few minutes later. He was out of his button up and nice pants, in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Charlie loved seeing him looking more natural and relaxed. 

“So what questions did you come up with?” The scientist asked with a smile.

“Well here's the thing,” Charlie said, pitch rising, “I didn't quite research the moon.”

“Oh? Then what were your pursuits tonight?” The scientist asked.

“Well, I sorta looked up all that alcoholic stuff,” Charlie admitted, looking down at the closed notebook. “If you don't wanna talk about it yet, or like ever, that's cool. I just wanted to learn stuff so I could be a good friend like you are.”

“That's very kind of you,” the scientist said gently. He reached over for Charlie's hand, which was still picking at his t-shirt hem. “I am willing to talk about it, but if I don't feel comfortable answering or I want to stop, I don't want to hurt your feelings.”

“No, I get it,” Charlie said, letting the scientist hold his hand. “I don't always like talking about shitty stuff, you always let me stop talking about it.”

“Alright, ask away, darling,” the scientist hummed, thumb gently massaging the back of Charlie's hand.

Charlie nodded and opened the notebook, looking down at it before asking, “Okay, so like, you were a scientist when you were still an alcoholic, so were you like a feng shui alcoholic?”

“I was a  _ functioning  _ alcoholic,” the scientist responded. “I wasn't thriving, though. I had no healthy relationships or friendships. I never socialized with coworkers. I did not do anything to make myself happy, other than drink. I missed work more than I do now. I often took much longer to grade papers. On a few occasions, I did drink before and during work, not to get drunk, just to get through.”

“Wow, I can't believe you were ever like that, I woulda never known,” Charlie answered quietly. “I'm glad you're happier now.”

“I'm thankful I became sober too,” the scientist hummed.

“Okay, so um, some of the websites said stuff about rock bottom, which isn’t like the bottom of a cave, they said it’s like a bad thing that makes you not drink. Did that happen to you?” Charlie asked.

“That's a question I'd rather not answer now,” the scientist said.

“Okay, yeah, cool,” Charlie looked down with his notes, tracing them with his free hand. “Okay, so like, a lot of people said it's a disease. Do you have to take medicine?”

“No,” the scientist hummed. “It's a different kind of disease.”

“Is it contagious?” Charlie asked.

“No,” the scientist answered again.

“How come all of the websites were filled with God stuff?” Charlie asked.

“Well, a higher power is a big part of AA. As you know, I am agnostic and tend to lean more heavily on science. In AA, I replace god with something different. For me, my higher power is an understanding that the universe is much bigger than myself and I ultimately have no control over it, over anything but myself.” The scientist answered.

“That's kinda cool, it's like science is your god,” Charlie hummed thoughtfully. He then asked, “How come you still go to them meetings if you haven't drank in forever?”

“That's a big question **,”** the scientist sighed. “Part of the reason is service, giving back. Helping people who are new to not drinking is good for me. It's also important for me to never forget that I am an alcoholic and if I have one drink, I'll end up miserable again. And there's-” the scientist stopped talking and then shrugged.

“What else?” Charlie asked, squeezing the scientist’s hand, “You don't gotta tell me, but I think I get it.”

“I've felt a strong desire to go back more often since we started seeing each other,” the scientist admitted.

“Woah, dude, do I make you wanna drink?”  Charlie asked, eyes wide. He was a little hurt by the comment, but more than that, he felt guilty for some reason.

“Well, that's not exactly it,” the scientist answered. “For one, I haven't been romant- excuse me, I mean emotionally vulnerable like this in a long time, so I'm nervous. I want to make sure I'm strong in my sobriety and healthy in my thinking as we proceed.”

“And next of all?” Charlie asked.

“Well, darling, in all honesty, your lifestyle is a bit triggering to me. I do appreciate that you don't come over under the influence after I asked you to stop, but it still is challenging to hear about you spending so much of your time under the influence. Not only does it make the craving strong some days, but it makes me hurt for you, knowing there is a side to life you are missing out. It also hurts knowing that I can not help you, you must do it yourself,” the scientist admitted. His words were slow, as if he picked them each out individually. He did not look at Charlie when he spoke, which was odd for him.

Charlie nodded slowly. That sucked to hear. In a lot of ways. But he didn’t want the scientist to feel bad for saying it. The scientist was allowed to feel shitty, just like he always told Charlie he was allowed to feel bad about things. Still, man it sucked.

After a moment of silence, Charlie answered, “Well that sucks, dude. I’ll stop talking about that kind of shit if it hurts you, it doesn’t bother me. We’ve got plenty of way smarter stuff to talk about all the time.”

“I appreciate that, Charlie,” the scientist smiled sadly. “I just don’t want you to feel you have to keep secrets from me, or that you can’t tell me about your life.”

“I’ll use desecration,” Charlie decided after a moment. 

The scientist looked up at Charlie, tilting his head as he thought. After a moment, it clicked, “You’ll decide based on the situation, right? You’ll use discretion?”

“Yeah!” Charlie laughed, “Discretion, cool word.”

“It is a nice word,” the scientist laughed with Charlie. “So, do you have more questions, darling?”

“Um, you said you um, you hurt for me? You think like, I’m an alcoholic?” Charlie asked. Talking to the scientist was one of the only times he felt bad for making things about himself, but he didn’t want to  _ ruminate  _ (the scientist said that word once in a conversation, and Charlie loved it. He learned how to use it correctly at this point. For a bit, he used it a lot in conversation, but he’s calmed down. It still pops up in his head a lot though) on the thought. He knew no good would come for that.

“Only you can answer that for yourself, Charlie,” the scientist said.

Charlie nodded, staying quiet. Something to think about. Maybe. Maybe not. He had a feeling the thought would stick around for a while, though.

“So, we’re all good?” the scientist asked, squeezing Charlie’s hand again.

“Yeah, man, but I never figured out any of my moon questions,” Charlie answered.

“Let’s get to the bottom of it then, shall we?” the scientist said before leaning in to give a brief kiss to Charlie’s cheek.


End file.
